


i'll call you by any name that you think you are

by zappactionsdower



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, Supernatural Elements, brief mentions of mental illness, terribly possessive felix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:35:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29531376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zappactionsdower/pseuds/zappactionsdower
Summary: Felix looks up at him, his amber-sharp eyes somehow gleaming.  “I liked your hair.”  He reaches out, running his small fingers along the short locks.  “It’s the color of treasure.”Dimitri flushes even though he doesn’t know why.  “It’s just hair, isn’t it?  It’s just like my father’s.”“It is not.”  Felix gives a dismissive sniff.  “You’re my favorite.”  Felix says, and somehow, his voice is just slightly off.  “That’s why.”  He curls his fingers up, the tears disappearing into something sharp and determined.   “They don’t get to break my treasures.”
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37
Collections: 2021 Dimilix Week





	i'll call you by any name that you think you are

Dimitri does not think about it at all at first. They’re playing in the fields behind Fraldarius lands – one of the few places where Dimitri does not have guards surrounding him or Gustave concerned with constant training exercises. Fraldarius lands are safe, perhaps the safest place in the whole of Faerghus for a Blaiddyd.

They’re playing a game of hide and seek although Sylvain prefers to pick flowers, claiming he’s going to give them to the loveliest maid in the area and Ingrid cannot focus in favor of loudly chiding Sylvain for his misdeeds. Dimitri’s hiding place is a small group of rocks near a particularly muddy river.

Felix finds him, of course. Felix always finds him. Dimitri spots his boots coming up and Dimitri bolts in an effort to reach home base before Felix can catch up. He’s not paying enough attention and his foot collides with an old, knotty branch. Dimitri falls forward and collides with the muddy earth.

It’s sticky. More sticky than it should be. Felix grabs onto him and starts fussing in distress as he turns Dimitri onto his side.

“I’m fine.” Dimitri wipes the mud from his face. “Really! I’m fine.”

Felix still fusses, his eyes fixed on the huge mess of brown goo in Dimitri’s hair. “It’s gross! You could have been eaten!”

Dimitri shakes his head and gives another broad smile. He allows himself to be herded back into the space where Sylvain takes one look at him and laughs and Ingrid complains about messing up their clothes.

It’s peaceful.

That night, the peace is ruined by one very frustrated maid. Even after two baths, even after using the most slick of soaps, the goo sticks and sticks and sticks. Dimitri’s eyes water from the pain of having his head yanked but it is nothing compared to the utter distress in Felix’s gaze.

“There’s nothing to be done about it.” The maid – Hyacinth – bows her head apologetically as Rodrigue looks on. “It must be cut.”

Felix is prone to crying fits. It is nothing compared to the tantrum he has as he watches the scissors cut through Dimitri’s blonde locks.

That night Dimitri pads into Felix’s room. Their fathers are not against them sharing a bed, citing childish whims that they will eventually grow out of once puberty begins to kick in. Stepmother frowns upon it, but Stepmother is not here to know. 

“Felix?” Dimitri slowly crawls into bed and eyes his friend. Felix went to bed early, too tired from his crying fit. “I really am fine. It’ll grow back.”

Felix looks up at him, his amber-sharp eyes somehow gleaming. “I liked your hair.” He reaches out, running his small fingers along the short locks. “It’s the color of treasure.”

Dimitri flushes even though he doesn’t know why. “It’s just hair, isn’t it? It’s just like my father’s.”

“It is not.” Felix gives a dismissive sniff. “You’re my favorite.” Felix says, and somehow, his voice is just slightly off. “That’s why.” He curls his fingers up, the tears disappearing into something sharp and determined. “They don’t get to break _my_ treasures.”

He does not get to see Felix after the Tragedy. There are too many guards posted around him and Rodrigue is not allowed into the castle for fear of “influencing” the young prince. Dimitri is too weak to see anyone anyway, too horrified of his own scars and there is something – there is something wrong inside of him that he cannot explain. His insides _hurt_. 

There’s something burning inside – always burning, even as he learns to smile placidly and speak to everyone again. Even as he recovers, slowly, his hair again a ruined mess cut down to nothing.

When Felix meets him as they go to subdue the Western rebellion, there is again an odd expression on his face.

“Good afternoon, Felix.” Dimitri says and he feels very little joy.

“They’ve ruined you.” Felix says, very brief and dark and angry. “Bastard _beasts_.”

Dimitri tilts his head, trying very hard to keep it together. He is here to be a leader – to be a symbol that the kingdom is still strong and healthy so long as a Blaiddyd is in the wings to ascend to the throne.

And then Felix’s expression softens to something familiar. Something human. “Let’s get this over with then.”

He does not remember, necessarily, what happens on the battlefield. He knows he ripped through the rebellious troops like paper, he knows something inside thrilled with the glee of spreading blood of such lowly creatures upon the ground and despite himself Dimitri does not – cannot – bring himself to feel guilt over it. He remembers, vaguely, Felix watching him with a mix of horror and disgust and that – that hurts. That is yet another emotion that adds to the empty void inside Dimitri that he fears will grow to encompass him if he does not step away from a ledge he does not know exists.

That night, he dreams of Felix entering his tent. But it is not Felix; it cannot be, because this dream-Felix has bright gold ophidian eyes and sharp teeth. The shadows dance around the tent, almost as though they are controlled by the young man Dimitri calls friend.

He runs his fingers along Dimitri’s scalp, soft, possessive. Like an adored pet. “Do you remember?” His voice has a roughness to it, somehow far too old for his young body. “Are you yourself still?” 

Dimitri pretends to be asleep, even as the hand traces through his scalp and rubs against his neck. Felix’s touch drifts lower, touching his back, tracing over where the fires of Duscur permanently burned his skin. It has been so long since someone comforted him that strange whispers are a small price to pay for human contact.

Felix is human.

Dimitri only feels four clawed fingers.

In retrospect, it was a fool’s desire for things to return to normal at Garreg Mach. He does as expected, he makes new friends in Ashe and Mercedes, he even begins to trust his professor even though something about Byleth unsettles him. Sometimes Dimitri looks at them and sees something ancient; sometimes he looks at them and sees something painfully familiar.

Felix calls him a beast and he is perhaps right. But sometimes when he meets Felix’s eyes, sometimes when he spars alone with him, there’s something distinctly _sad_ about him as they interact. No – perhaps not sad, but disappointed. Avaricious. 

“Have I offended you?” Dimitri finally asks, late at night when the only light is from a half-full moon and the distant dotting of stars. “I do not wish for our friendship to be so strained.”

Felix snorts. “Friendship?”

“Are we not friends?”

Felix steps forward, all grace and sharpness. Somehow, it becomes colder.

“I told you.” Felix reaches up to pet his hair, trace his thumb along Dimitri’s cheek. He feels oddly trapped – a mouse under the gaze of one very covetous hawk. “You’re my favorite.”

“Favorite what?” There is something Dimitri is missing. Something he _must_ be missing.

“Of all of your line.” Felix’s lips turn downwards, annoyed. “Yet you debase yourself for them. You act like a _beast_ .” He withdraws his hand and Dimitri misses the contact. “A treasure that keeps getting its edges cracked and lets filth slime its way into its core is no treasure at all. It’s just a _thing_.”

“Treasure has no value if it sits upon a shelf unused.” Dimitri replies, unsure. He remembers all too well his father speaking of how the gold and riches in their coffers were to be used for the people, and he remembers how unsettled he was when Felix demanded they hoard swords and stack the weapons up against a corner of his room.

 _Don’t touch it. I have it perfect_. Felix said at the pointed steel and silver, jagged edges aimed in every direction. Like teeth, almost, ready to snap and tear. He puffed his chest out and beamed. _You’ll stay in the middle of course_. _Because you’re the shiniest._

It was just a childish flight of fantasy.

A game.

Wasn’t it?

During the White Heron Dance, Dimitri feels Felix’s eyes on him. He smiles, pleasant, the prince that everyone expects him to be. The prince he _needs_ to be for his country and its people.

He has never seen Felix so murderous – so possessive – as he is standing against the wall.

He hears them. The voices of the dead. They’ve become louder and louder in the past few weeks, whispering, demanding things from him. His blood thrums with relief that he can avenge them, that they – and he – can rest.

In his clarity of mind he looks to Felix and sees disgust and that is all right. He is no treasure; nothing to be coveted because he is a vehicle of vengeance. That is Dimitri’s purpose. His existence.

His blood trills with violence. With death. He does not resist its siren song one moment longer.

Dimitri is mad but that is fine. He is a corpse, after all, and corpses do not think as men do.

He sees the dead and they stare back, unflinching, judging him for every sin he commits. This is fine – he exists to be judged after all. His professor finds him in the crumbling ruins and then the rest of his classmates do and Dimitri does not understand why. He is nothing but teeth and claws and vengeance; too close to death to live and yet unable to rest until his duty is done.

Felix slips in when the moon is high and full and the crows have gathered around Dimitri’s feet. They scatter as Felix approaches, cackling into the air in something that feels like _fear_.

Dimitri bares his teeth and Felix does not flinch. The shadows rite around him and Dimitri can see it clearly now, as he can see everything clearly.

“You are not Felix.” There is an irony to it – the whole time it was the other accusing _him_ of being wrong; a boar wearing human skin. And yet humans do not have glowing gold snake eyes. Humans do not control darkness itself. Humans do not move on four legs as a salamander does.

This creature is very, very old. This creature is very, very dangerous.

This creature is very, very _angry_.

Felix grabs his throat and Dimitri feels a distant sensation of claws digging into his jugular. His blood pumps faster, that dark sensation drawn to the surface, called to action by its master.

“There has never been _a_ Felix.” Felix tilts his head and it is unnatural; a doll being pulled by invisible strings. “I have always been myself.”

“Lies.” Dimitri hisses even though deep inside he knows better. “Monster.”

Not-Felix’s lips turn downwards. “ _Your_ kind drank _my_ blood. Tore apart _my_ bones. I’m not the monster here.” He leans in close, breath hot and too real against Dimitri’s jaw. “But you were different. You were kind.” His grip softens, “You were bright and golden. But your own kind _shattered_ you.”

Dimitri laughs - a harsh, scratching-empty sound. He leans in forward and the first time, he feels tears prickling at his eyes. Not even another monster can offer him comfort. “Then what will you do with me now?”

Felix does not answer. His arms wrap around Dimitri and Dimitri has the distinct sensation there are wings - broad and strong and all-encompassing, or perhaps the shadows themselves encase them both. He feels oddly safe, cut off from everything but the creature holding him.

“They will not have you.” Felix promises. “Not like this. Not while my blood flows through this family’s veins. Even if this one falls, I will awake in another.”

Dimitri closes his eyes and sleeps. He dreams of darkness and war; of flying on powerful wings before he falls, falls, and sees his kind share the same fate. He dreams of memories that are not his own, of a power sleeping beneath his skin that would overwhelm him if only he let it. Something so old and ancient and different that now that he sees it, he cannot look away.

 _I am not you_ , he thinks to the strange creature inside of him. _Am I?_

 _No_ , it answers with the voice of a crypt. _But if you do not live, then I will finally die._

Rodrigue dies. Felix does not mourn him but Dimitri does.

It is not that Felix is not sad, Dimitri starts to realize. Felix – the thing that wears his skin is in his very blood and being – has seen many a Fraldarius fall. They live and through them his Felix lives, and when they die he lives on and on, watching, sometimes acting, always aware. The unseen, unspoken scion ever since the Fraldarius bloodline was created.

Dimitri however has a duty to _live_. If not for himself, for all those who serve beneath him. All the scared souls who cry out for an end to a war they did not ask for.

He knows who he is. He knows what he can do. He will not allow himself to fall again.

“They are not all beasts.” Dimitri says one night when it is just himself and Felix staring up towards the Goddess Tower. And then, “I believe in them. In _us_.”

Felix’s lips are dry when he kisses Dimitri. His sharp teeth catch on Dimitri’s tongue and there is an iron taste of blood between them. The kisses become more heated, hungrier. Dimitri lets himself be coveted and seen for all that he is. He may not be whole, but he is himself and he is loved.

“My treasure. My favorite. I will not let anyone else have you.” Felix purrs, and Dimitri can sense the power building through his veins. “Your human bloodline can fall to nothing, so long as I have you to myself.”

“Then let us finish this.” Dimitri draws back, just for a moment, to stare into Felix’s golden eyes. His _real_ eyes. “And I will be yours forevermore.”

Mortality is nothing when you are the Grim Dragon incarnate. In his very core, he knows this. Perhaps Felix has been waiting for him to know it all the while.

Felix smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Monster Felix is my new blueberry jam


End file.
